Offer
by Maglor's finch
Summary: Sirius is on edge. Remus knows what he wants. But Sirius doesn't want it. Slash


Disclaimer: Not mine. Characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Etc. etc.

Warning: Slash. And Language. 

Sirius was on edge again, so much was clear when he dropped the two plates he was levitating to the sink, cursed loudly when they shattered on the floor, and stormed out of the kitchen of Nr. 12, Grimmauld Place without another word. Sighing, Remus pointed his wand at the plates to repair them, after which he finished clearing the table and set the dishes to wash themselves, taking his time. He'd better let Sirius wank in peace before going upstairs to see if his friend felt any need to talk about it.

Outside the bedroom door he waited, listening for sounds that indicated it wasn't safe to knock yet. When he heard nothing of the kind, he rapped discreetly. 

'Sirius?'

'Yes!' barked an irritated voice.

'Sorry,' Remus said. 'I'll be back later, unless you were going to sleep.'

'Remus, I said: yes!' The irritation turned to anger. 'Come in, for God's sake!'

For Sirius's sake and his own, Remus did as he was told. His friend was lying on his bed, flat on his back, staring up at the canopy. He was fully dressed. Remus sniffed, but all his nose caught was a vague scent of dust and despair. No sex. Which meant that if they were going to have that talk, it would probably transform into an argument within minutes. 

He closed the door and approached the bed. 'Mind if I sit down?'

'Bet you would even if I did mind.' Sirius kept gazing up.

Uh-oh. Remus sat. 'Want to talk about it?'

'Fuck you,' Sirius said, predictably. 'You thought I went here to jack myself off.'

'But you didn't,' Remus replied.

'I'm sick of feeling my own bloody hand around my cock!' Sirius burst out. 'It's still callused from running about in dog form for the better part of two years. Damn! I want a good shag, or a blow-job, whatever - anything that involves another human being.' Now he turned his head towards the mixture of sadness and concern on the face of his friend. 'I'm sick of having sex with no one but myself! I want to get out of this miserable tomb, to pick someone up, or visit a brothel - which is probably what I'd have to do to get some, the way I look nowadays. But I can't even have paid sex.' He cursed again.

'When was the last time you had any? I mean, sex with another person?' Remus asked, though he knew the answer.

'Before Azkaban,' Sirius replied curtly, as usual. 'And if you say, "that's a long time ago", you can fuck off. I'm sure I'd remember it perfectly well if the Dementor's hadn't ripped the memory from my mind. Pretty good, I guess, or they wouldn't have bothered. But I remember nothing about it, except that it happened. Nothing at all!'

'That's bad,' Remus murmured. 'If I'm allowed to say so, of course.'

'Why don't you say something more constructive?' Sirius demanded.

'You expect me to solve the problem, then?' 

When Sirius didn't answer he went on: 'Maybe finding someone won't be as impossible as you think. As you can't leave and we can't call an escort service to send someone to an unplottable house, it would have to be one of the members of the Order, but -

'Don't be daft! Do you really expect me to make the round and proposition them one by one until one of them says yes - or until I get to Snape and he puts me out of my misery?'

Remus chuckled.

'It's NOT funny!' Sirius shouted with sudden vehemence.

'All right, all right,' Remus said soothingly. He took a deep breath. 'No, it's not funny, and you can't work off the Order members that way. So that leaves one solution, I guess.'

'Well?' said Sirius impatiently when his friend hesitated.

Remus turned his gaze upward an inch or so to look at Sirius's forehead, instead of into his eyes. 'I could give you a blow-job.'

Sirius sat up abruptly. 'Idiot!'

'Thank you,' Remus said mildly. 

'No, I mean it. You can't do that!'

'Can't I?' Remus retorted, addressing his own hands. 'Can't I? You'd be surprised to find what I'm capable of, Sirius. While the Dementors were sucking up your pleasant memories, I was sucking cocks and getting buggered and that sort of things in gay Muggle brothels - for a while, at least,' he added. 'Until they stopped employing me because I was getting too old and grey.'

Sirius emitted a strangled noise. 

'It was hard to find work, you know.' Remus murmured, not looking up from his hands. 'I never lasted very long in any of those places either. You have to be available if they ask for you. 'The second or third time they can't reach you because of the full moon usually means you're fired.'

Now he looked up to search the other's face. It was getting darker in the room, but he didn't need a lot of light to interpret Sirius's expression. 'You're disgusted,' he stated calmly. 'I guess that was to be expected. I've had other dirty jobs - cleaning oil tankers, for instance, and they smell a lot worse than human males in rut - but for some reason this particular occupation seems to qualify as the worst of the worst. I couldn't have sunk any lower, could I?'

Sirius didn't react at all now, lying still as a corpse. It would undoubtedly be better to leave, but for some reason Remus couldn't stop talking. 'The point is, you know' - he swept a lock of hair aside - 'that I refuse to starve. Too many people in the Wizarding World would cheer. They'd call me a good wolf for ridding them of myself by dying quietly in a corner, preferably out of sight and without a whimper. But I've never asked to be a werewolf and I'm not going to oblige them. Not if it depends on me.'

It took a while before Sirius cleared his throat. 'I'm not disgusted, Remus,' he said thickly. 'Don't think for a moment that I am. I'm appalled. At the way the Wizarding World has treated you. Is treating you.'

Remus shook his head emphatically, dislodging the lock of hair again. 'Don't!' he said, his tone clipped, a sure sign of agitation. 'Twelve years in Azkaban - while you're innocent - that's what I call appalling. Two years on the run as a dog - feeding on rats and garbage - that's what I call appalling. Still being a wanted criminal - being confined to this house - not being able to -'

'Stop it, Remus,' Sirius said. 'I get it.'

Damaged goods, both of them. A silence that wasn't quite awkward descended on the room. At last, Remus said tentatively: 'Well, if you're not disgusted - my offer still stands.'

The mattress moved. 'No way.'

'Why not? It's not as if I'm asking you to pay for my services.'

'Don't be a fool. That's not the point.'

'Then what is?'

'You don't really want it.'

'I do!'

'No, you don't!' Sirius snapped. `You're not even half-hard. You're not in the least aroused. Don't you think I can't see it, just, because it's getting darker with every minute? Why should I treat you like a whore? I'd be taking advantage of -'

'No you wouldn't. You're just to damned -' 

Remus fell silent. The shadows in the room became oppressive, as if the house tried to smother them both. He rose from the bed and walked to the window, where he stood outlined against the last of the light, a shabby silhouette, too thin for his own good. Sirius rose from the bed, took a step in his direction and halted. The silence seemed to take on a life of its own. At least one of them was breathing audibly in the semi-darkness. 

'Padfoot,' Remus suddenly said, turning away from the window, an unexpected hint of mockery in his voice. 'What if I wouldn't offer you a blow-job, but asked you for one?'

After a long moment in which the world slowly ground to a halt, Sirius leaped forward. Grabbing Remus's arms he pulled him roughly away from the window, pushed him towards the bed and threw him down. Landing on top of him, he pinned him down, grinding his hips against him and crushing the left side of his mouth in a violent kiss. 

Remus answered it, parting his lips to admit Sirius's thrusting tongue and parry it with his own, while his fingers dug into Sirius's shoulders.

When they ended the kiss, Sirius wiped the saliva from his chin and raised himself on his elbow, baring his teeth in a grin. He scrambled back, fumbling with Remus's zipper for a moment before he pulled down the other's trousers and pants. 

'Ah. That's better,' he said, bending over and surveying the area underneath. 'But Moony?'

'Yes?' Remus asked hoarsely.

'I can't remember ever having done this before. Tell me if I get it wrong.'

A wheezing sound that could be a laugh. 'Don't bite, Padfoot. Just don't bite.'

'You're asking a great deal,' Sirius said before he took Remus into his mouth.

...

'Got it right?' he asked afterwards when Remus began to breathe normally again and was able to open his eyes.

'You didn't bite,' Remus said, patting him. 'Good boy.' He kicked off his trousers and sat up to remove the rest of his clothes, taking out his wand. He waved it in front of Sirius's face before dropping back on the bed and spreading his legs. 'I know a good lubrication spell, but it won't work if you keep your trousers on.' 

'Why don't you charm my clothes off, while you're at it?'

And Remus did.

...

Afterwards, they lay side by side in companionable silence. It was almost completely dark now, but for one street lamp casting a wan light that failed to reach the foot of the bed by a hairbreadth.

'You know, Moony,' Sirius said after what could have been either minutes or hours, 'you're good. Very good.'

'Experience, Padfoot. Lots of.'

'That's not at all what I meant!'

Remus looked aside and raised a hand to touch his lover's hair. 'Then what did you mean?'

'Only you could have saved the day the way you did - making a 180 degrees turn.' 

A soft laugh. 'But you gave me the idea. You threw me the Quaffle; I only had to score.'

'Quaffle? I was a Beater, back at Hogwarts, remember?'

'Ah, yes. So that's why I feel like I've been bludgeoned.'

'You've no reason to complain. You won the match.'

'Then you've won as well, Padfoot,' Remus said, smiling in the dark. 'After all, we're playing for the same team, aren't we?'

'Seems we are,' murmured Sirius, reaching out. 'Hold me, Moony. Tight.'

And Remus did.


End file.
